


here i love you and the horizon hides you in vain

by derevko_child



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hate Sex, Not Canon Compliant, Porn With Plot, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 10:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derevko_child/pseuds/derevko_child
Summary: It’s not a matter ofbelievingthat there’s a multiverse; it’s believing that there’s another universe that’s just like theirs yet different; where the variances are minute that they didn’t notice anything was wrong.Melinda tries to resolve her mixed feelings about Sarge. Through her fists.[diverges from 6.07]





	here i love you and the horizon hides you in vain

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, yadda, yadda, yadda. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> This fic started out _very_ differently. And then the premise just got away from me and the plot(s) took over.
> 
> Title comes from Neruda's _Here I love You_.

Phil Coulson chose to save the world instead of saving his life.

A year later, a man with his face shows up, with a mission to destroy the world to save the universe.

Daisy calls it a cosmic joke. But jokes, cosmic or otherwise, usually have a punchline.

(“A truce. We don’t lock you up, you help us get rid of those… things and SHIELD will help you kill your monster.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It sounds simple because it _is_ simple.”)

That… that was the punchline.

She hates the universe so _goddamn_ much.

\- - - - -

There’s a nod of the head; a shake of hands.

Everything’s going well.

Then, he flashes _that_ smile.

It looks harmless; bureaucratic, even. But it’s the same smile Coulson gave to military officials who were way over their heads but still insisted on overseeing a SHIELD operation. The smile that said shit’s going to hit the fan and he’s going to end up calling the shots, whether they all liked it or not.

She has a bad feeling about this.

\- - - - -

“It’s a deal with the devil.” Mack says, because he also knows what that smile meant.

“More like _sleeping_ with the enemy.” Daisy replies, making a face. “You’re making _May_ sleep with the enemy.”

She knows Daisy didn’t mean it literally.

Except…

Yeah.

\- - - - -

He walks in the training room at two in the morning, finding her beating the living daylights out of SHIELD’s training dummies, and correctly assumes that the poor things were standing in for him.

He offers to spar with her instead.

“I need a workout and they’re poor imitations, anyway.” He says.

When Phil Coulson wanted to figure something out, he would approach his subject from all directions. He’d try to know it from inside-out; its strengths, its weaknesses, its default courses of action. He took delight in taking everything apart, inspecting each piece and figuring out how one part works in relation to the whole thing.

This man thinks like Coulson. And sparring with her is an opportunity to figure her out.

For her, however, it was an invitation for a thorough beatdown.

(She never declines these kinds of proposal)

It doesn’t matter if it had been a genuine offer of a friendly fight because it quickly devolves into a slugfest, where every punch he makes is intended to bring her down and all her strikes are meant to draw blood.

And it’s only going to stop when one of them is on the floor, bleeding (or dead).

What she doesn’t know is how they ended up fucking against the wall instead.

Maybe it’s the way for them not to kill each other. Or maybe this was his plan all along and she fell right into it, but what she does know is that she’s probably going to regret this.

_Probably. _

A breathless moan escapes her throat. The darkest corner in the gym offers a little privacy and she’s aware that an insomniac can walk in on them at any minute, but his pace is quick, and his thrusts get harder every time he pushes inside her, and it feels _so_ good; _he_ feels so good, it’s probably illegal and—

She lets out a strangled gasp when she comes harder than she expected, and she buries her face on the crook of his neck as the hot rush of pleasure rips through her.

For a few, blissful seconds, she forgets, all awash with the waves of her orgasm.

There’s a rumble in his chest and his fingers dig on her hips as his pace becomes erratic. Instinctively, she pulls him closer to her, tightening around him until he groans in her hair and comes inside her.

“Feel better, _darling_?” he asks afterwards when they’re both decent, in a drawl that sounds a little too smug for her liking.

She pretends that the last few minutes didn’t happen, that there isn’t a sticky mess between her thighs or that her lips aren’t burning from the rough kisses he gave her. Instead, she focuses on the pain from her bleeding knuckles.

“I’ll feel better when I don’t have to see your face anymore.” She mutters, briefly glancing at him before looking away. The large cut on his face has stopped bleeding but a bruise has started to form on his cheek.

She leaves before he can say anything else.

\- - - - -

She wants to say it felt like she fucked a stranger.

But she would be lying to herself.

\- - - - -

“You look like you’re a minute away from ripping his face off.”

Elena stands beside her outside the conference room, watching as Sarge and Mack discuss the plan before the rest of them arrive for the meeting.

“I _want_ to rip his face off his head.” She answers, her eyes tracking down Sarge’s movements, observing for signs of a double-cross, “Feed it to the shrikes.”

“You know, there’s an old proverb back home,” Elena starts, and Melinda immediately knows that the other woman has seen the state of Sarge’s face and has quickly made the connection with the scrapes on her hands.

She looks straight ahead.

“Something like, this kind of hatred will either end in someone’s death or in someone’s bed.”

Melinda tries not to think about last night; tries not to remember how his calloused fingers felt hot and soothing on her skin, the way his lips greedily sought hers, and the way his breath hitched when her hips pressed against his arousal.

As far as anyone knows, it was only Sarge who got one hell of a beatdown last night.

She keeps the expression on her face blank as she glances at Elena and raises a brow, eliciting a playful smile on the other woman’s face.

“I’m joking. It’s an Elena Rodriguez proverb.”

“Are you implying that I should…?” she asks, purposefully trailing off because knowing how Elena thinks, the suggestion could really go either way.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Only an observation.”

She wants to point out that her proverb sounds like a pick-up line but decides against it, knowing that they’ll somehow end up on the topic of Keller and it’s a conversation she’d rather not go through again.

Melinda turns her attention back to the two men inside the room. As if sensing someone’s looking at him, Sarge looks up.

The expression on his face darkens when his eyes meet her gaze and almost instantly, something in her blood stirs and she recognizes it as both rage and lust.

“Ready to go in?” Elena asks, oblivious to what’s happening.

She clenches her fist and the dull, streak of pain on her fingers quiets the anger that’s seething in her veins.

“I’m ready.”

\- - - - -

“I don’t understand why you people think you can _save_ them. Once a person’s been infected by a shrike, they’re as good as dead.”

She and Daisy exchange a glance. This is the first time Fitz and Simmons had a face-to-face interaction with Coulson’s doppelganger, and she understands that they will need to intervene in case things get… heated.

“We’ve got to at least _try_.” Fitz sputters, looking at Sarge with a scandalized expression because Phil Coulson loathes collateral damage.

Simmons looks at her in disbelief, her struggle to separate this man from Coulson palpable on her face.

“There is no way—”

“— and you, _sir_, are in no position to tell us that there is _no_ other way.” Simmons steely but smoothly interjects.

“You’re wasting your time on a lost cause.”

Melinda can pinpoint the exact millisecond when the two scientists decided that the man in front of them is not Coulson. It’s the same time her blood ran cold when she heard him say those words.

“A _lost_ cause?” Fitz says in outrage, his voice rising, “Saving innocent lives is _never_ a lost cause.”

Sarge lets out an exasperated sigh and shakes his head which makes the younger man visibly recoil, no doubt remembering the many times Coulson had done the same thing.

“Well.” Sarge huffs and glances at her. “Don’t say I never warned you.”

She can’t wait for FitzSimmons to prove him wrong.

\- - - - -

They needed more shrikes, so Fitz installs a gadget on the quinjets that essentially acts as nets.

Because you don’t fucking shoot at birds.

\- - - - -

“You went to _space._” Daisy points out when both Piper and Davis declined to pilot a quinjet with Sarge in tow for shrike-gathering in Costa Rica. “You piloted the Zephyr. In _space_.”

“Yeah, but that’s space and you won’t hit anything in space. Space is one big… space.” Davis weakly explains.

“There are _asteroids_ in space. There are _spaceships_ in space.”

“Asteroids don’t try to possess you.” Piper answers, “When you hit a spaceship, the aliens get angry because you hit them, but they don’t _try_ to possess you.”

“You’re afraid of being possessed, is that it?”

“Piper’s afraid of being possessed.” Davis says with a shrug, “I’m afraid of birds.”

Daisy looks at her and she shrugs.

\- - - - -

She does a three-loop maneuver to avoid direct impact on a flock of shrikes.

“This is fun.” She hears Sarge say in a deadpan tone as Pax hurls the contents of his stomach on the quinjet’s floor.

She hates how much he sounds like Coulson.

\- - - - -

Mining anger for later use is better than wasting it on a tantrum.

That’s what she used to tell Daisy.

(And Elena. And Piper. And countless other agents who trained under her)

Melinda thinks she’s done enough of that.

\- - - - -

“You know, for someone who loves this face, you sure do like punching it.”

He says this as she strikes him in the face for the third time, hard enough to break skin.

It’s midnight. There are still a few people awake, especially in the labs, but the gym is empty except for them.

She doesn’t know if he’s purposefully seeking her out when he thinks she’s angry— but that presumes he’s familiar with her enough to know _when_ she’s angry.

But she’s not stopping him if he wants to be her punching bag.

(she hates how he looks like Coulson, how he sounds like him, how he would act like him. She hates, and she hates, and she _hates_.)

“_So_ angry.”

“Stop talking.” She says, almost with a snarl, “And fight.”

He gladly acquiesces.

\- - - - -

They managed to drag themselves in a supply room this time around.

(he fucks her so hard against the wall that it makes her vision go white, but he also kisses her like he means it, and holds her tightly against him that when she descends from the haze of her climax, the first thing she becomes aware of is the strong heartbeat in his chest.

That’s probably what she hates about him the most.)

\- - - - -

“I see you got a new sparring partner.”

It’s the first time Daisy joined her for her tai chi session ever since she came home from space. She knows that the younger woman had been itching to ask about the thin cut on her face and the bandage on her hands but has restrained herself from saying anything until they’re done.

She acknowledges the observation but doesn’t feel the need to comment as she takes a sip from her water bottle.

“Whatever happened to feeling like you could trust him?”

Melinda shrugs, “Doesn’t mean I can’t hit him in the face.”

“Is he any good?”

There was zero insinuation in the question, but Melinda feels embarrassment rise up to her cheeks. And she’s lucky that Daisy momentarily turned away from her because her reaction would have been picked up almost immediately.

“He’s a quick study.”

Daisy glances at her and she can see the concern and the doubt so plainly on her face.

Doppelgangers aren’t new territory for them, but facing a morally grey doppelganger of a dead loved one who’s neither a robot nor a mask? Well….

“I’ll be fine.” Melinda finally says, “He’s not Coulson.”

“I know.” Daisy answers, her gaze dropping to her injured hands, “That’s what I’m worried about.”

\- - - - -

It takes Fitz and Simmons two days to figure it out.

But figuring out how to amplify Daisy’s powers to kill all the shrikes around the planet but not their host (and everyone else, for that matter)?

That one takes a several days.

\- - - - -

“You can say it.”

Melinda tears her eyes away from the assault plans on the screen and sees Sarge looking at her with a lazy smile on his face.

They’re fully clothed and at least three feet apart, but somehow, this feels more intimate than fucking in a dark corner or in a supply closet.

She doesn’t like it.

(because with sex, she can pretend they’re operating on some base instinct, looking for a release that violence couldn’t deliver)

“Say what?” she asks and crosses her arms in front of her.

“I told you so?”

She doesn’t say anything because she knows what he’s talking about, but she quirks a brow as though she’s waiting for an explanation.

He doesn’t take the bait, because of course he wouldn’t. He shakes his head in amusement instead, but she can also see a contemplative expression passing through his face.

It’s the same look that appeared on Coulson’s face whenever he’s reevaluating an initial assessment.

“You have a good team.”

\- - - - -

He’s her shameful little secret.

\- - - - -

He gives her the sword to train with.

“What for?” she asks. He wants to kill the Beast; he said so himself.

She carefully swings the sword, mindful of the space around her. It’s stable and light; well-balanced in her hand, and sharp enough to slice off someone’s arm.

“Just in case.” He casually replies.

_In case I die._

Melinda glances at him and he shrugs.

“To be honest, I think you have a better chance of killing her than I do.”

\- - - - -

“I know this might seem like an impossible mission, but SHIELD has faced beings with god-like powers before. And because of men and women like you, SHIELD is still standing.”

Mack looks at all of them, committing their faces to memory as he sends them to an uncertain fate.

“Good hunting.”

\- - - - -

They lose six people during the first onslaught.

Pax. Macmillan. Chou. Richards. Villanueva. Jameson.

Everyone who took their weapons and boarded the jets were all prepared to die, but even then, there’s no such thing as an acceptable loss.

Sarge impassively stares at the floor as Snow morosely intones that none of the dead will turn into a butterfly.

\- - - - -

Xibalba is the name of a cave located in Guatemala, part of the Chiquibul Cave System in Central America.

It is also the name of the underworld in Mayan mythology.

Finding the entrance to the cave was easy. Finding the entrance to the _underworld_, on the other hand? Not so much.

\- - - - -

In the end, the shrikes lead the way.

\- - - - -

“I just want my people – my family – to have a home.”

Izel looks at them with curiosity that’s both malicious and morbid, tilting her head to the side when she sees Sarge approaching, with her and Daisy by his side.

“And _you_ would know what it’s like.” She says, staring at Sarge, “Losing your home. Your _family_.”

“It ends here, Izel.”

\- - - - -

They say she’s a god, the creator; a monster who’s here to feed and to destroy. The mother of all shrikes. A hateful, galaxy-hopping hate-beast that eats planets.

The One Who Will Destroy Them All.

For someone with such terrifying names, Melinda thinks she lacks the presence for it.

So, naturally, Izel turns into a giant bat.

\- - - - -

Sarge drives the sword right through the Creator’s chest.

Just as he had promised.

\- - - - -

“Was it worth it?” Daisy finally asks as they all stare at the large green flames that burst out of the monster when it died, mesmerized at how something beautiful came out of something horrifying.

Melinda wonders if he feels satisfied with what he has done; that after what he’s been through – what maybe feels like a century filled with death and destruction, some of which he caused – that he feels like he’s avenged the family he had lost.

Sarge drops the sword to the ground and he looks at them, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. His eyes are glassy; pitch-black instead of blue, reflecting only the green inferno in front of them.

The expression on his face is a mix of grief and desolation, rage and relief. It’s the same expression on Coulson’s face after he killed Ward and she immediately knows what his answer to the question is.

_Yes_.

But he’s not going to be same afterwards.

\- - - - -

The job was done, and it was time for him and his team to leave.

She pretends she’s not both relieved and disappointed.

But then, the sword started glowing.

\- - - - -

On hindsight, it was a bad idea

There are two, three agents milling about the training area. She doesn’t know if they’ve stayed to watch or if they’ve left; her focus is on the sound of their harsh breathing and the way his eyes scream murder.

They’ve only sparred twice before this and both had ended in a… compromising position.

It’s not going to end the same way tonight.

Not that she minds.

\- - - - -

She can feel it still simmering underneath his skin— rage, vengeance, guilt. It has somewhat subsided after killing Izel, but it’s still in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders.

He keeps throwing punches, forcing her to go on the defensive. And with his current disposition, he wouldn’t stop punching if he lands a hit.

So, she doesn’t allow him to land a hit.

Melinda keeps her own anger contained as she dances around him, light-footed, evading his blows. She was looking forward to him leaving because this – whatever this is, however this is going to end – is a coping mechanism that’s going to make it harder for her to move on from her loss.

(she’s been through enough therapy sessions that she recognizes what she’s doing, but at the same time, she’s also thought of this in Andrew’s voice. And when her line of thinking starts to sound like Andrew, she knows she’s in deep shit)

\- - - - -

He manages to kick her in the left thigh.

A sharp gasp of pain escapes her as she falls to the floor and for a split second, all she can think of is that her leg’s on fire.

And then adrenaline kicks in.

\- - - - -

It takes Elena, Daisy and two more agents to pull them away from each other

“This isn’t sparring.” Daisy angrily says and Melinda’s surprised that the floor isn’t shaking as she speaks, “This is an excuse to kill each other!”

Elena presses a towel onto her head and Melinda belatedly realizes that the stinging wound by her brow was bleeding profusely. She looks at Sarge and sees him trying to calm himself down. There’s a lot of blood on his shirt and she knows it’s not just his blood on it.

Neither of them says anything.

“I’m just…” Daisy trails off and throws up her hands in frustration, “Unbelievable.” She mutters before walking out.

\- - - - -

“I’m sorry.”

Daisy went to her quarters with a kit stolen from the medbay, because Daisy knows she won’t step a foot inside Medical.

“Sorry for what?”

“For acting like I don’t understand why you’d want to hurt him.”

Melinda sighs and shakes her head. She wants to say it’s simple: that she’s punishing herself and she’s taking it out on him, and if afterwards the violence still couldn’t quell the rage and the grief screaming in her veins, she ends up fucking him.

Which is something she shouldn’t say out loud.

“It’s not that complicated.” Melinda says instead.

“Because it’s just two angry people taking it out on each other, right?” Daisy asks in an irreverent tone, “How’s your leg?”

“It’s fine.”

Daisy then brings her attention to the wound by her brow, which only stopped bleeding when she showered. “That’s a really nasty cut.”

“A lucky hit.”

“I believe it.”

The younger woman readies the first aid kit and Melinda begins to protest but she gets shut down almost immediately.

“I know Coulson’s the only one allowed to take care of you.” Daisy starts, “But he left me orders.”

“Really.” she replies as stops herself from rolling her eyes.

“Yes, really. Besides, do you really want Jemma to start fussing when she sees that on your face tomorrow morning?”

She’s had paper cuts worse than this back when she was in Admin, but she also knows that Daisy was right about Simmons. She’s always been fussy about the team’s injuries.

Melinda lets out a long, annoyed sigh.

“Fine.”

\- - - - -

There’s a knock on her door an hour later and she wonders if Daisy forgot something in her room.

She walks barefoot across her quarter’s small living area, mindful of the cold floor under her feet, before cracking open the door to see who’s outside.

Sarge.

The cuts on his face have already started healing, but the bruise underneath his eye has given him quite the shiner.

Melinda’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t close the door, but she doesn’t open it any wider either. They’ve fucked twice; it doesn’t mean he gets an invitation to her space.

“I want to apologize.”

She wants to ask what for, since they’ve beaten each other up without any issue. But she’s more curious about how he found his way here, considering he’s never been in this part of the Lighthouse before.

“How did you find my quarters?”

“Agent Rodriguez gave me directions.”

Almost immediately, Elena’s proverb-slash-terrible-pick-up-line echoes in her head and she looks at him suspiciously, “She told you anything else?”

“Don’t kill each other?”

She stares at him, trying to decide whether to let him in or not. The rational part of her knows she shouldn’t, but…

“Apologize for what?”

“That kick… the one that made you fall down.” He answers somewhat morosely, “I… I didn’t think….” he trails off and shuts his mouth, looking around uncomfortably, probably feeling that he shouldn’t be here, that he shouldn’t be _seen_ here.

She expected the apology to be about the shallow wound on her face that bled too much. Not… that.

Melinda opens the door to let him step inside, “Make it quick.”

\- - - - -

His idea of an apology involves being on his knees with his face between her legs, making her come with his tongue.

\- - - - -

“Maybe we should tell everyone what we do after you beat me up.” He says afterwards. They never reached her bedroom and they’re still on the floor, still trying to catch their breaths while staring at the ceiling. “Because I _really_ want to know if I can make you scream.”

The tone he uses is ridiculously sleazy it’s almost funny.

“Fuck you.” is the only retort her still-buzzing brain can come up with.

She feels his chuckle reverberate deep from his chest.

\- - - - -

Sometimes, she’d catch herself _hoping_ it’s him.

\- - - - -

For three days there was relative peace, until Fitz’s machines detect a massive rumbling deep within the earth’s core and the electricity in the entire North Atlantic all simultaneously go out for an hour without any explanation.

Yes, Izel was the Creator, but there’s someone else up in the hierarchy of Universe Destroyers.

Because _of course_.

\- - - - -

When a twice-saved Earth is saved once more, and Ixchel’s spirit unites with the fire in the place of fear, Pachakutiq will roam once again to swallow the suns and stars.

The heavens will be plunged in darkness and the dead shall feast in the eternal night.

\- - - - -

“So, we’re stopping two-thousand-year-old prophecies now?”

“Yep.”

“Any idea _where_ to start?”

“Nope.”

\- - - - -

A group of Chronicoms arrive in orbit, led by Enoch.

“We come in peace.” He says, and Melinda can’t help but feel like it’s a phrase he’s always wanted to say but never had the chance to do so.

What he forgets to tell them is that he started a civil war among his people and now everyone on Earth is caught in the crossfire.

\- - - - -

“Director Mackenzie. As you require my honesty to move forward with this alliance, I should inform you that I stole you and your friends from your home universe and brought you here to save this Earth’s future.”

\- - - - -

What.

The.

_Hell. _

\- - - - -

They converge in the lab, because it’s where Fitz had retreated after having a meltdown about the multiverse _theory_ being personally confirmed to him by an alien who kidnapped him, who now calls him _bestie_, and who has established that he is, in fact, the worst of the worst.

The white walls and the steady beeps of the machines monitoring everything that could potentially cause disasters around the globe bring a sense of calm and stability to the engineer.

And when Fitz is comfortable, they’re all comfortable.

“What do we do?” Simmons asks to no one in particular. The steadiness of her voice doesn’t betray the fact that she’s just as shaken as her husband, but it’s the way she folds her arms in front of her which gives it away.

They were taken as a team; what they do next should also be decided as a team.

“We stay and fight this Pachakutiq.” Mack answers, like it’s the most logical thing to do.

“And if another monster rises from his ashes?” Fitz asks.

“We fight that too.” Daisy replies. The determination she hears in the younger woman’s voice was decisive and sincere that she can’t help but feel _proud_.

“And then we go home, yes?” Elena asks.

This time, everyone turns to her for her approval because while she thinks of this as a team decision, everyone else thinks of it as a _family_ decision, and now that Coulson’s gone…

Melinda looks at each of them, and from the expressions on their faces, she knows that they’re thinking about what she lost in this place; who she had lost.

“_And then_ we go home.” She repeats.

\- - - - -

She walks around the Lighthouse, trying to make sense of Enoch’s revelation, going wherever her feet would take her.

It’s not a matter of _believing_ that there’s a multiverse; it’s believing that there’s another universe that’s just like theirs yet different; where the variances are minute that they didn’t notice anything was wrong.

Somehow, she ends up in front of his quarters.

Melinda knows that her subconscious associates him with Coulson. Everyone would say it’s his face; for her it’s more than that. It’s the little things, like that tiny shrug he makes when he’s trying to prove a point, or that quick twist he makes with his lips before he finally frowns.

If she accepts that there are universes out there similar to theirs with their version of her, then she would have to accept that somewhere out there, there’s another version of him.

Maybe this is another Phil Coulson from another reality. Maybe he’s _her_ Coulson, the one who died beside her with a peaceful smile in Tahiti, and who came back twisted by his deal with the Ghost Rider.

(Or maybe he’s just some… _entity_ who took his form for whatever reason)

But regardless, their relationship – if they could call it that – is purely transactional. She doesn’t know if she should bother him; if she has the _right_ to bother him.

However, without realizing it, she had raised her fist and knocked thrice.

He was frowning when he opened the door, but it’s quickly replaced by surprise – and then worry – when he sees her.

She doesn’t say anything but maybe there’s something on her face which he understands because he doesn’t ask what she wants and tugs her inside instead.

He had barely locked the door behind him when she grabs his shirt and kisses him hard.

“Make me scream.” She whispers against his ear.

He flicks his tongue on the column of her throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

\- - - - -

He gently presses a kiss on her shoulder when he thinks she’s asleep.

\- - - - -

“You know he’s not _him_, right?”

“Yes.”

“Just checking.”

\- - - - -

Mack started to create succession plans the day after they found out they weren’t from here, making sure that there’s going to be a smooth transition from him to the next set of directors.

He made copies of Coulson’s holograms and even makes a few of his own.

Piper and Davis are the most senior agents after everyone in the team. They’re not ready to lead but at the same time, they’re also the only agents who have seen the things they’ve been through and it didn’t make them leave.

“I’m not ready.” Piper tells her one day when they’re working in the Zephyr, her terror barely contained in her voice.

“Maybe not.” Melinda says in a calm tone, because that’s what Piper needs right now. An anchor to secure her from the wave of panic. “But Coulson wasn’t ready when Fury gave him the position. Neither was Mack.”

“What if I fail? What if _we_ fail?”

“Then you learn from it.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds, May.”

“I know.”

Melinda looks at the younger woman. She trained Piper. She might not have the same relationship with her as she has with Daisy, but she knows her strengths, her weaknesses. She knows when to give her a small nudge or a hard push.

“You’re allowed to feel awful; you’re allowed to be sad. You’re even allowed to quit.” Melinda starts, “What you’re not allowed to do is to let your fears come first but not doing what’s right.”

The doubt doesn’t disappear on Piper’s face, but she can sense that the panic is receding.

Finally, Piper lets out a deep breath and nods her head.

“Thanks.” She says as she reflects on what she said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Just a nudge.

\- - - - -

Her initial assessment of Chronicoms was right.

They’re a bunch of assholes who have a predilection to kidnap people.

And now a faction of them has Daisy and Sarge.

\- - - - -

“They have a machine—”

“—were strapped down and unconscious—”

“—essentially a mind prison—”

“—like being back in the Framework—”

“—to make a time machine—”

“—and prevent their planet from being destroyed—”

“— which would take a lifetime, and even then—”

“—as Jemma said—”

“—subconsciously—”

“—reverted to a seven-year-old—”

“—conjured the Doctor—

“—a non-stop horror show, really.”

She stares at Fitz and Simmons, who are both out of breath and flustered. There was no report about their time with the Chronicoms; there were a lot of things going on and they needed all hands on deck. And it never really slowed down even after they’ve defeated Izel.

“What.” Davis blankly states.

“They said—” Deke starts but is cut off by Elena.

“Why would they need Daisy and Sarge, then?”

They weren’t bait. That faction of Chronicoms knows about Daisy; kidnapping her on impulse is simply asking for trouble.

“They want their memories.”

Melinda turns around and sees Enoch standing with Mack.

“Memories?” Piper repeats.

“My people want to build a time machine. The machine that Fitz and Jemma described, can also be used to review the subject’s memories.” Enoch tries to make eye contact with all of them, a robotic action that feels like an attempt to be sincere, “They cannot build a time machine without their help, but they must have found something in their memories to help them build one.”

“I’m not following…?” Piper says in confusion.

“There was a blueprint of a time machine in the future.” Enoch says and turns towards Jemma.

“Yes, but I only caught a glimpse of it.” Simmons answers, “Fitz – the other Fitz – was able to briefly study it.”

She doesn’t remember seeing a blueprint, but she remembers the time machine.

“So, they took Sarge because they thought he was Coulson?” Deke asks.

“That is a very likely possibility. And if they do not get what they want from Agent Johnson, they _will_ come back for everyone else.”

\- - - - -

She gets left behind to coordinate with the Space team and Mack goes into the field instead of her.

It had been Enoch’s suggestion, which Mack decided is for the best. She might not have remembered seeing the blueprints, but she was with Simmons in that ruined earth before they rescued everyone in the Lighthouse.

She had almost argued with the decision, but they were running out of time.

“We’ll be careful.” Elena tells her as she stonily sees them off. “We’ll all come home.”

\- - - - -

They came back home, all right.

Some of them in more ways than one.

\- - - - -

Simmons told her what to expect in the aftermath, but people handle their traumas and monsters differently; while Simmons puts hers in different boxes, neatly labeled, easy to put back on in the event they escape, Daisy shoves them all in one place and hides them, with a note to herself that she should get those sorted out soon.

Adding a stranger with a lot of unresolved issues in that equation, and comparing Fitz and Simmons time in that memory machine would be like comparing apples and oranges.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Simmons says and it sounds more like she’s reassuring herself. “Daisy’s… she’s one of the most resilient people I know.”

Later, when she sees the shell-shocked look on both Daisy and Sarge’s faces, she knows that nothing is going to be fine.

At least, not soon.

Daisy’s vise-like grip on her hand is enough reason for her to stay beside her, regardless of what the younger woman might say.

\- - - - -

“He’s Coulson.” Daisy’s voice is strained, small. They’re in Daisy’s bedroom and it’s pitch dark. “_A_ Coulson. He took the serum.”

Daisy curls beside her, as though trying to disappear into the blankets.

She doesn’t know what Daisy went through and even if she had the courage to ask, she doesn’t think she’ll get an answer.

“I saw you die.” She whispers.

Melinda holds her fiercely against her chest.

Daisy’s shoulders start to shake.

“I’m here.” She says gently, even when her voice starts to break. “I’m right here.”

\- - - - -

He saw them die and they turned into the monsters that haunt his dreams.

\- - - - -

“We can’t find him.”

Exhaustion is grinding down her bones and she’s staring at her tea, but her head immediately snaps up when she hears Snow’s voice.

Snow had become somewhat more stable when she started spending more time at SHIELD, but it doesn’t mean she’s stopped trying to creep up on people, saying weird things.

“He left the medical wing.” She explains, standing by the pantry’s entryway. “Jaco’s looking for him but I think you’ll have a better chance of finding him.”

Snow doesn’t bother to say who she’s referring to.

“I can sense a lot of… anguish from him.” she continues, “He’s never been this upset before.”

“You tried the truck?” Melinda asks.

Snow nods her head.

Daisy didn’t tell her a lot, but she got enough information to know that she’s not the best person to look for him.

“He said he remembers.”

Melinda lets out a weary sigh.

“I’ll keep a lookout for him.”

She knows _exactly_ where he is.

\- - - - -

“You sure you want to be here?”

He’s in her quarters, sitting on the couch in the living area. She doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, if he had gone straight to her room when he left Medical.

She can feel his eyes watching her as she walks towards the kitchen.

“Yeah.”

Phil Coulson has always been the type to fight his monsters head-on.

\- - - - -

The silence is deafening, and he keeps looking at her like she’s going to disappear right in front of his eyes at any second.

She doesn’t prod; doesn’t ask what he remembers or what he’s feeling right now, or if he needs anything. He sought refuge in her quarters because he wants to escape the scrutiny at Medical and that’s what she’s going to give him.

She pours two glasses of whiskey.

And waits.

\- - - - -

“I took the serum.”

It was the worst decision of his life, but he isn’t going to say it out loud.

“Daisy died.”

And he blames himself for it.

“The world got destroyed.”

And he blames himself for it.

“You died.”

And he blames himself for it.

“Then I died.”

He drinks the whiskey like it’s water and his lips twist into a resentful smile.

“Turns out the spirit of vengeance doesn’t like it when someone tries to renegotiate his deal.”

\- - - - -

Late that night, he climbs onto her bed.

She’s exhausted and she’s drained and it’s that time of the night when she wishes that he’s here, with her, making jokes about stopping another world-eater from destroying the universe and holding her close, just because.

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shifts her position and nestles beside him.

Because for once, just for _once_, she wants to pretend.

He pulls her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head.

(he feels so warm, so _alive_ and it takes all of her remaining strength not to cry)

But he isn’t hers, in the same way that she isn’t his.

\- - - - -

She wakes up the next morning alone.

\- - - - -

“How are you holding up?” Mack asks, checking on her in the landing bay as she watches the air crew load up the Zephyr for a recon mission.

“Barely hanging on.”

Mack gently squeezes her shoulder and stays with her until it’s time for her and her team to leave.

\- - - - -

He insists on being called Sarge.

“The man you think you know is long gone.” He said.

She respects his decision to stay away. But there’d been times when she catches him looking at her with such a bitter expression on his face that it makes her want to punch him.

\- - - - -

Enoch’s faction gives them the rest of the prophecy as promised, with various translations in English and Spanish and several annotations which _delighted_ Simmons to no end.

However, Enoch stays as the rest of his people leave.

“Just for a little while.” He tells them, “I would like to observe the outcome of this event.”

“And you’ll help us.” Fitz declares. “Extinction-level event be damned.”

Enoch turns towards him, “Ye of little faith.” He replies, “What are best friends for?”

\- - - - -

He’s okay with Daisy wanting to spend some time with him but he avoids her like the plague.

She pretends it doesn’t matter.

He’s not _her_ Coulson.

\- - - - -

Pachakutiq would fall on the sixth day, when the last sunset before the black night come to pass, under the hands of one who had crossed the tunnels to the place of fear and clawed their way out.

And only then shall the dead know peace.

\- - - - -

“The Earth of this universe seems to be destined for destruction.” Enoch observed one night when he decided to join the team in their late-night bonding, “Maybe we should stop interfering.”

“Dude, I _live_ here.” Deke says and slings his left arm around Snow, who leans into him with a starry look on her face.

“You don’t live _here_, you live in the _future_.” Fitz corrects and Jemma teasingly shushes him.

She doesn’t know what they think of their alternate-universe-grandchild-from-the-future’s choice of girlfriend. And she thinks it’s best if she doesn’t ask… if _no one_ asks.

“Well, I live here.” Davis points out.

“Fair point.” Fitz replies and gives him an apologetic shrug.

“Well, as long as we’re still here, we’re not going to let that happen.” Daisy answers.

“Hear, hear!” Piper says.

Yoyo lifts up her glass as Melinda makes a soft noise in agreement.

Enoch regards them seriously, as though his Chronicom brain is analyzing the centuries of notes he made about this civilization. After a while, he slowly nods his head.

But it doesn’t mean he agrees with them.

\- - - - -

“The Chronicom’s right, you know.” He tells her when they were alone in the armory, preparing for their assault against another ancient god bent on destroying the universe.

This is the first time he’d spoken to her after that night.

“What about?”

“Earth’s fate.” He answers, “_This_ Earth’s fate.”

She snorts. She never realized Enoch’s a talkative alien.

“You don’t have to do this. I can bring you back home—I can bring all of you back to your universe right now.”

She remembers the way he looked at her that night, as though he can’t tell if she was real or merely a figment of his imagination.

“If you think we’re going to let Earth – any Earth – be destroyed, then you’re definitely not Coulson anymore.”

“Trying to outsmart fate always come at a price.”

“And _you_ would know?” she asks sardonically.

Once upon a time, this man tried to outwit the devil and failed.

Of course, he would know.

\- - - - -

Agent Melinda May of SHIELD kills Pachakutiq on a Saturday while the sun sets, when day gives way to a night welcoming the new moon, using the sword Sarge used to kill Izel.

Afterall, Phil Coulson wasn’t the only one who had died and lived to tell about it.

\- - - - -

_And only then shall the dead know peace. _

\- - - - -

“We’ll make sure the Godkiller’s stored in a secure place.” Piper tells her in an assuring tone as everyone else say their goodbyes.

“Godkiller?”

“The sword.” Piper explains, “Mr. I’m-Not-Coulson there killed a god with it, you killed a god with it. So that sword? Godkiller.”

Melinda doesn’t hide her amusement, which makes Piper a little too excited.

“Was that a smile?” She gasps and looks around, “Guys, are you seeing this? I made Agent May smile!”

She shakes her head in fake annoyance and turns away, to see what else is happening around the room.

Deke is speaking with his grandparents, holding onto Fitz and Simmons’ hands for the last time. Davis is talking to Mack and Daisy, while Elena talks to Reyes and Khan. Snow, who had elected to stay with SHIELD and with Deke, is speaking with Jaco and Sarge.

There’s an air of melancholy in the hangar as they say their last goodbyes to this SHIELD team. A team that they weren’t supposed to be part of, in a universe that they weren’t supposed to be in.

She looks away when Sarge glances at her.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t kill Deke.” Piper says when she notices her looking at Snow, “And I’ll make sure Deke doesn’t invent Skynet.”

“That’s… reassuring.”

“I think I have to watch more time travel movies just to check what else Deke shouldn’t be inventing.”

She shrugs, “Make Davis do it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Melinda turns towards her and puts her hand on Piper’s shoulder, before allowing pride to show on her face.

“You and Davis will do just fine, Piper.”

\- - - - -

He’s the only one aside from the Chronicoms who can bring them home.

Unlike the Chronicoms, he’s not going to get stranded.

\- - - - -

Traveling between universes feels like being turned inside out while being aware that a billion different things is passing through every atom in her body.

There’s a burst of color behind her eyes, a low thrum right at the tip of her fingers, a rush of serenity during that bit of turbulence.

It was beautiful, it was overwhelming, it was downright horrifying.

She’s never doing it again.

\- - - - -

The moment she steps out of the rig, she feels lighter, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulder.

Daisy looks at her and she sees relief in the younger woman’s face.

_Home. _

They’re home.

\- - - - -

Sarge and Jaco will stay for the night.

Nothing more.

\- - - - -

“This is for you.”

Melinda stares at the pendant that looks tiny in Jaco’s palm. It’s shaped like a teardrop and made of purple glass.

She looks at him suspiciously and glances around to see if anyone’s watching. When she realizes that the hangar is empty except for the two of them, she looks back at him and raises a brow.

“For me.”

“Yes.” He replies, “I made it.”

“For me.” she repeats.

Her interactions with Jaco were limited. Mostly, it was because she was acutely aware that he could accidentally crush them to death or burn them, and there were so many things going on that she didn’t want to think about that on top of other things she needed to think about.

“I was asked to make it. Before. When he was less grumpy.”

She stares at him, flabbergasted.

“It was a joke but he doesn’t know I took him seriously.” Jaco says and offers the pendant to her, “Take it.”

“I don’t—”

“—please.”

Melinda glares at him, hoping that it would be enough to scare him off.

“It’s rare for me to make something other than cupcakes… or whatever you call those things. And I think this turned out real pretty.” He says, quietly, “I don’t want to break it.”

It’s his gentle tone that finally convinces her to take it.

The pendant is smooth and solid, as large as a nickel. She closes her hand over it. It feels cool on her skin.

“It’s beautiful, Jaco.” She says when she finally found her voice. “Thank you.”

\- - - - -

They should have gone back earlier; back when they first found out they weren’t home.

There would have been more time.

They could have _helped._

\- - - - -

“You can still say goodbye to him, you know. It’s not too late.”

“I don’t think he’d want that.”

“Well, I didn’t think he’d want me to say goodbye either, but he seemed really… I don’t know, grateful?” Daisy answers, munching on the cereal she found in the Lighthouse’s storage area. Already familiar with the place, she and Fitz quickly brought the power and the rest of the Lighthouse’s system up and running almost immediately after they’ve arrived.

She doesn’t ask where Daisy found that box of cereal. She’s assuming it’s one of those long-lasting SHIELD meals similar to the one they found in the other universe’s Lighthouse.

“He blames himself for his Daisy dying.” Melinda answers as they walk side by side towards the mission control room.

“He also blames himself for his May dying.” Daisy points out.

“But who do you think he blames for convincing him to take the serum?”

Daisy gapes at her, “That’s not… he doesn’t.”

Melinda shakes her head.

“He doesn’t blame that on _you_. Trust me on this, okay?”

\- - - - -

She pretends she’s not looking at the screen containing the live feed of the security cameras in the landing bay, where Mack and Elena are seeing Sarge and Jaco off. Daisy pretends she’s watching the news and not watching her watch the live feed.

“Where’s Mack?” Fitz appears on the doorway and hurriedly goes towards the threat assessment monitoring system.

“Hangar.” Daisy answers, almost absent-mindedly.

“There’s a powerful energy surge somewhere in Africa,” He says as he types in the command to project his findings on the biggest screen they have, “_Nothing_ we’ve ever seen before.”

“Where’s the source?” She asks. The pieces of equipment in the Lighthouse, while high-tech during the 70s, aren’t exactly… modern.

“Wakanda.” Fitz answers tapping the map in the monitor.

\- - - - -

Suddenly, they hear Simmons screaming for Fitz.

The sound makes her heart stop. A million different scenarios race in her head as her senses quickly go on alert, ready to fight.

Fitz had already scrambled out of the room and she was about to follow when it stops

The abrupt silence brings a chill to her spine.

\- - - - -

“May?”

Melinda turns around just in time to see Daisy slowly disintegrating in front of her.

For a split second, she thinks this is a hallucination.

A god_damn_ acid trip.

But it’s the fear in Daisy’s voice that snaps her out of it. She sounded just the way she did when they discovered her powers—back when they still called her Skye and she broke her own bones because she was afraid she’ll kill them all.

She reaches for her, her face filled with sheer _terror_ but before Melinda could react, she’s gone.

Daisy’s gone.

\- - - - -

Fitz

Simmons

Daisy.

\- - - - -

This isn’t real.

Maybe they’re locked up in Izel’s dimension, tortured by their worst fears as Izel and Pachakutiq remake the universe in their own image.

Because finding her way back home, only to lose everyone she loves afterwards? It sounds very much like one of her recurring nightmares.

Or maybe they’re still in the Framework. AIDA’s running out of space for her simulations and this is the program doing some cleaning in the hardware.

This isn’t real.

Except it is.

\- - - - -

“I didn’t do anything.”

Her heart is pounding wildly against her chest and there’s something squeezing her throat. Her eyes are burning, and she doesn’t know if it’s from tears or from the chilly air in the landing bay.

There’s no Mack, no Elena.

Not even Jaco.

Just him.

“I know.” She manages to croak out.

Relief briefly passes by his face and she doesn’t know why he’d think she’d blame him for _this_. The unnatural calm he’s radiating doesn’t mask the intense scrutiny in his eyes, and it makes her want to reach out to him, to hold him just in case he starts disintegrating in front of her the way Daisy did.

“Where’s….” he trails off because he already knows the answer to his question.

_Gone._

Everybody’s gone.

\- - - - -

_Trying to outsmart fate always come at a price._

[1/2]

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this fic because I certainly enjoyed writing it.


End file.
